Four weeks into our second hard lockdown of Sydney and my mind is not coping too well. Managed last year thanks to work keeping me occupied. Getting everyone mobile and WFH was a monumental tasking if ever there were one. Don’t really have that luxury this time around, aside from something I’m working on with a friend. Have doubts about said friend, yet unsure as to why they’re so… hesitant when this was their idea to begin with. Logic dictates that I ought to go it alone, much as that idea does not appeal to me. Yet… I’ll manage. Always have. Always will.
Or so I tell myself.
Feeling is a funny thing for those of us whom it can – and will – overwhelm. Key thing to practice is managing feelings, knowing when to isolate and section out certain feelings. When done as they come along, it is effective. When attempted after a full-on breakout manoeuvre aimed at destablising things… it is futile. By my own admission I am someone who feels a bit too much. Often wear that badge with pride. Has been the key enabler during my social and work life to establish meaningful relationships. Has been the point of difference with work in particular. Too many arseholes in this world looking to make a quick buck at the expense of the uninformed’s ignorance. Could never bring myself around to working in such a way. Always worked as if someone was watching me, even when huddled in the dark, cold corner of a datacentre. Integrity is ingrained in me.
Don’t care much for the corporate world anymore. Don’t see the point in contributing to someone else’s retirement fund. Tired of upholding myself to the highest of standards – along with my team – only to never be acknowledged for the good that we’d done. Worked with people older than myself – good people. They looked up to me. Cared for them like they were family. Made the difference for my team, my clients. Innovated. Demonstrated. Elevated.
Haven’t looked back in proper anger. Do resent certain aspects of what is happening. Not much I can do at this point that would have any real impact.
Lockdown looks as if it may last another month. Locals here are in a pancake. Think “Mad Max: Fury Road”, but instead of the War Rig carrying guzzaline, its 4ply loo paper. Would be a spectacle if Aussies were armed like the Americans. However, Port Arthur happened and ol’ Howsy took away their pew-pews. Do miss my shotgun, do miss my 92F. Feel rusty with regards to marksmanship. Still remember how to strip, reassemble, functions test and fully operate the Minimi 7.62 TR light support weapon. Do miss that feeling.
Not suicidal per se. More like… in need of good company. Constant, physical company. Difficult to find for those of us with peculiarities about our person. More so in the middle of a lockdown. Biggest question however: can such a friendship be forged and maintained when one party is devoid of emotion? Logic says yes. But why wouldn’t logic say that… Can’t trust myself with making the right choices when it comes to emotions? Perhaps. Aim is true when emotions don’t get in the way. Like Master Harrell says: “keep your eyes downrange”.
Maybe I just need to get laid. There is that.
Writing tonight’s entry into my journal. Hands starting to go all weird again. Surprised that I haven’t picked up the bottle since I put it down over a year ago. Should I be proud, or concerned? Logic says “proud”. Emotion says “bottoms up”.
…
Yeah. I need to get laid.
